


two stubborn bastards walk into a bar

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [63]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, more like Newton Geiszler vs. Hermann Gottlieb, or: PRU as a comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 14:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18852721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: Newt is exceptionally stubborn; Hermann knows this.On the bright side, so is he.





	two stubborn bastards walk into a bar

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Love your prompts!!!! How about this one: Hermann couldn’t help but be impressed by his sheer commitment to his dickishness. Newton was willing to suffer for his art, you had to give him that."

“Fine, then!” Newt shouts, throwing his hands up, and glares at Hermann fiercely—or, at least, attempts to. The overall effect is something like a cat that needs to sneeze. “I’m leaving, Hermann—and I’m not coming back!”

Hermann stares at him, barely holding in the instinctive urge to—to  _gape_ at the other. “What?” he asks, shocked. “I—I’m sorry, you’re—?”

“ _Leaving_ ,” Newt snaps. “Since you don’t appreciate me, I might as well find someone who  _does_.” He crosses his arms, glaring. “Good.  _Bye_.” He turns on his heel, stomping out, leaving Hermann staring at the place he’d occupied just a moment earlier blankly.

He lowers his gaze to the table and lets out a soft sigh.

Newt’s not back by the next night, though, so Hermann gives in and calls him. It goes to voice-mail—well, not his  _actual_ voice-mail. It’s Newt  _pretending_ Hermann has reached his voice-mail. Hermann lets out another sigh—he’s been doing that a lot lately. “Newton,” he says, “you idiot. You left all your clothing.”

“I got hired by Li Wen Shao,” Newt shoots back flippantly, giving up on the voice-mail charade. “I can buy a new  _wardrobe_.” The smugness is there, even over the phone, and Hermann rolls his eyes.

“You  _hate_ Shao Industries,” he says. “You joined in a protest against them just last _month_. I cannot see any situation in which you would work for her, nevermind a situation where she would  _hire_ you.”

The other huffs. “See? This is what got you in this situation, Hermann. You put too little faith in me.”

“I sometimes think I put  _too_ much faith in you,” Hermann says drily. “Well, have fun with your little private sector stint. It won’t last long, mark my words. You’ll come running back like a dog with its tail between its hind legs.”

The intensity of Newt’s tone when he speaks is slightly frightening. “We’ll see,” he says, “we’ll see.”

* * *

It’s something like morbid curiosity mixed with Hermann’s inner scientist that drives him to see how long it’ll last. He  _predicts_ Newton will not last more than six days.

Currently, the tally is nine months, a fact that Newt is gloating over, words rendered slightly flat by the poor connection. “Not just a  _wunderkind_ anymore, am I, Herms?” he laughs. Hermann scowls, even if Newt can’t see it, since it’s just a voice call.

He imagines Newt is sitting in a spinning office-chair, grinning, absurdly-expensive coffee in hand as he orders about minions. “You will, first and foremost, be a hyperactive  _wunderkind_ to me, Newton,” he retorts. “How much longer are you going to keep this up, anyway? I know you hate it with a passion, Newton. The only thing keeping you there is your  _ridiculous_ competitive streak.”

“ _Your_ ridiculous competitive streak,” Newt counters, “this could all be over if you’d just admit I was  _right_.”

Hermann scowls harder, and when he doesn’t answer soon enough, the line clicks dead.

Newt calls again three months later. “How’s a year without  _moi_ been, Hermann? Is my voice music to your ears?”

Hermann practically throws the phone at the wall, just to see the expression on Newt’s face before the screen cracks and shatters, the phone broken beyond repair. “I hate you,” he says, matter-of-factly, but without bite. All of this, and what for? The fact that Hermann insulted his tiramisu? Still, Hermann couldn’t help but be impressed by his sheer commitment to his dickishness. Newton was willing to suffer for his art, you had to give him that.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Newt coos. “Now, are you going to finally acknowledge that I was right, you bastard?”

 _No_ , Hermann almost says,  _absolutely not_ , out of spite, but. Well, he’s  _missed_ Newton, surprisingly.  So, instead, he says, “No. But…I  _could_ be convinced.”

Newt grins at him. “Thank  _fuck_ ,” he says, dramatically, and tosses the file of papers in his hand over his shoulder, ignores the protest of one of his “minions”. “Now I can finally quit this job. Dinner at seven tomorrow at my new place? I’ll text you the address.” For good measure, he throws the cup of coffee in the same direction as the papers went.

Hermann shakes his head in mock-dispair, but his lips quirk into a minute smile. 


End file.
